


Full Circle

by S_Faith



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-01
Updated: 2008-01-01
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:31:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13591077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: Bridget settles into life as a new mother—and it's a more complicated life than she might have imagined.





	Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the 2005/06 columns published in _The Independent_. [And **well** before MATB/BJB/etc.]
> 
> Disclaimer: Because if Helen's not going to wrap up the story for her characters, I will. :D

Bridget had managed to avoid going to the big family summer soirée by claiming the newborn baby had been kicking up too much of a fuss all night and day to make the trip, and frankly, the child's father had been far too hung over to drive or otherwise make an appearance at the gathering.

As the date of the New Year's buffet approached, she could think only of going alone, of facing the inevitable flurry of questions. There were no regrets though. Everything had crystallized in that moment, the moment when Daniel had asked, the moment when she'd refused; she didn't love him, not in the same way necessary to make a marriage work, despite having had a child together.

She was in a way relieved to hear that Mark would not be there, that he had been seeing another woman. It was not as if she didn't want to see him again—she still loved him, deep down, and they'd been on friendly enough terms at their last meeting in April, where he'd even seen fit to defend her against the charges of having hallucinated a face on a train—but it took a certain level of pressure off of her to only have to deal with the queries by Una, Geoffrey and all of the family and friends as to why she didn't marry the father of her child.

"Darling, we all knew he wasn't good enough for you," her mother had said shortly after learning the news. She'd found it hard to take her mother's words as anything but an effort to be supportive of her daughter's decision, and to make herself feel better in the wake of such a devastating blow; after all, this was the same woman who had fluttered and cooed every time she'd seen him as a prospective son-in-law at last. Now that wasn't going to be.

In the weeks that followed she was proved right when her mother's true feelings had surfaced, and she'd made it plain that she thought her daughter should have done the proper thing and accepted the proposal in order to give her son his father. Bridget had long since stopped trying to argue the point, as there was no getting through to the woman that marrying for anything but love would not create a happy home for the baby.

The parting had been amicable, at least, and not entirely unexpected. Bridget had been thinking that they'd been more like roommates than soulmates for a while; they'd just had different ideas about how to move out of that stagnancy. Daniel had accepted the refusal with great grace and maturity, had acknowledged openly what she had already realised. She had to admit he had grown up a lot, which made the transition to friendship—real, true friendship and not an uneasy truce for the sake of the child—much easier. They actually made great friends when there were no pressures of commitment or sexual tension. When all was said and done, they were really quite similar in temperament and senses of humour.

He'd really stepped up to the plate when it came to financial support, which helped immensely while she was still on maternity leave. He took it upon himself to run errands, cook meals and provide necessities like nappies for her. She didn't think he'd ever be capable of such a level of responsibility, but then again, the same could have been said about herself, so she simply smiled and accepted it for what it was. She had gone back to her former flat (thank goodness it hadn't sold yet) and planned on working from home after the holidays, for which she was very grateful, as it allowed her to care for the baby herself.

The napping six-month-old stirred and made a fussing sound, so she stood and went to the side of his crib. She smiled wearily, all trepidation for the upcoming family arrangement quickly extinguished by the deep and abiding love she felt for him. He blinked his sleepy little eyes and turned over, popping his thumb into his mouth almost shyly.

"Avery," she said. "You're supposed to be sleeping, naughty boy."

He giggled in delight at seeing his mother, pulled his blanket up over his head, then peeked around the edge almost as if to see if she was still watching. She pulled it away from his face and he made the softest of happy sounds, buoying her spirits. She reached to scoop him and his favourite blanket up into her arms, kissed his downy soft hair, then took him over to the rocking chair to lull him back to sleep.

So many evenings of so many years past she would have been primping for a night out of partying, especially on New Year's Eve, but here it was, barely ten o'clock in the evening, and she was struggling to keep her own eyes opened.

Avery nestled in her arms, made a soft sigh then tugged his blanket up close to his face. She looked to him, feeling the peace of her love for him washing over her again. _If I'd known then what I know now, how much tumult and chaos would result from that one drunken night of shagging_ , she thought as the boy drifted back off to slumber, _I'd still have done it all just to have had you._

After ascertaining he was well and truly back to sleep, she rose and gingerly put Avery back into his crib, then padded quietly out into the living room, switched on the telly and found something to watch, keeping the volume low. With some amusement she recalled it was her second New Year's in a row without any alcohol.

A gentle shaking of her shoulder startled her from a sleep she didn't remember slipping into, and she opened her eyes to see the face of her friend Shazzer. She blinked. "What are you doing here?" She looked around. Tom, Jude and Formerly-Vile Richard were all standing there. "How did you get in?"

" _He_ let us in," Jude replied, cocking her head to the side, towards the back of the house.

Her mind reeled, wondering if it were indeed possible for a six-month-old to have let her friends in, but another voice added: "Bridget. I couldn't bear the thought of you ringing the New Year in alone." Daniel.

"Nor could we," added Jude.

She smiled. "As you can see, I likely would have slept through the whole thing."

"We could never have let that happen," admonished Tom, sitting on the couch beside her. "How's the little mama doing? Besides tired, I mean."

"She's doing fine," said Bridget. "And once again dreading Una's Turkey Curry Buffet."

"Don't go," said Shaz.

"I have to go. Everyone wants to see the baby."

"I could come with you," offered Daniel.

Bridget unexpectedly burst out with a laugh. "I appreciate the thought, but I think it would be a bad idea. You'll only raise their hopes." Everyone chuckled.

Unfortunately, this sudden eruption of sound prompted a tiny wail from the back room. In an instant Daniel was heading back to the nursery. He returned presently with the baby in his arms; Tom vacated his spot on the couch to allow Daniel to sit. Immediately Jude went to his side to fuss over the child. Richard took a couple of carrier bags off towards the kitchen. From the delicious scent wafting in the air, she took it to be Chinese takeaway.

"So what time do you have to be there tomorrow?" Jude asked, holding out her pinky finger for the baby to grasp.

"Not 'til late afternoon, thank goodness."

"Do you think you'll be seeing Mark there?"

She looked to Shaz, a little stunned that she'd ask. "No, actually. Mum says he won't be there. Guess he's been seeing someone else."

Of all the people there, she was shocked that it was Daniel who looked most interested in (and disappointed in) the answer, that it was he that Shaz was sharing a look with. "Oh," replied Shaz.

"Bridge, I think he may want something only Mum can provide," cut in Jude's voice, who found her finger being pulled into the baby's mouth. She rose, took the baby from Daniel's arms, and took him back into the nursery to feed him in the dim of the room and the comfort of the rocking chair. 

Later, after the passing of midnight, and after Jude, Richard and Tom had headed for home, she found herself thinking once more of Shaz's question regarding Mark, why the two of them (Daniel in particular) would even care whether or not Mark would be at the gathering the next day. Shaz was slouched on the sofa beside her, Daniel in the nursery with the baby changing his nappy, so she asked, "Shaz, why were you asking about Mark earlier?"

"Huh?" Shaz answered sleepily.

"Being at the Turkey Curry Buffet. What prompted you to ask after Mark of all people?"

"Oh, well, I guess I got to thinking about that being where you'd met him for the first time, and his likelihood of being there…" Her voice lowered. "Honestly, Bridge, you were happier with him than with anyone else."

Bridget sighed, shifting her position on the sofa. "I should go to bed," she said, deliberately changing the subject. He had moved on anyway, so despite her own feelings there was no point in dwelling on it.

Recognising the ploy for what it was, Shaz replied, "Well, you were." Shaz stood, then surprised Bridget by bending and pecking a friendly kiss on the top of her head. "Have a good time tomorrow."

"Very funny."

It wasn't until after they had both gone that she realised Shaz's explanation never did account for the look she shared with Daniel.

………

She had gotten a newer, more reliable car, and really only drove it on the occasions when she went out shopping with the baby, or to visit her mother and father in the suburbs of the city. Avery loved car rides; he watched with fascination at the streaking white of the snow-covered landscape rushing by, made amused little noises at nearby cars. She grinned even as she saw the sign announcing the junction that was her exit and felt her stomach plummet into the floorboards.

Her mother was as effusive as ever in greeting her at the door of Una's place, reaching immediately for the baby's carrier, taking him out to coddle him, making ridiculous cooing sounds at him. "Oh, he's gotten so big since I saw him last!" she said.

"Mum, that was only last week," Bridget said with a smirk.

She looked at Bridget, seemingly not hearing the reply. "You're looking very tired and drawn, darling. Hope Daniel—" She paused in her usual coy, loaded way. "—has been doing his share for the baby."

"Of course he has," she explained patiently, and not for the first time, "but as we don't actually live together any more, I get to do most of the nighttime tending."

Her mother made a dismissive sound. "I hope he's giving you a break now and again, keeping the baby at his place."

She thought of the breast pump in all of its evilness. "Yes, Mother. He does. He's been very good."

"Pam, could you come and give me a hand with—Bridget! Hadn't heard you come in." It was Una, wearing a typically loud two-piece outfit and a garish holiday-themed apron, and she came up close to Bridget to give her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, Una," she said, smiling wearily.

Pam pushed air through her teeth, continuing their previous conversation. "If he's so good I don't see why you don't just take him up on his offer."

_Here we go_ , Bridget thought.

"I'm very tired after the drive," she said, turning back to Una. "Have you any orange juice or decaffeinated coffee?"

"Yes, of _course,_ my dear. Have a seat on the sofa."

"I'll hold on to Avery for you," said Pam brightly, tickling his nose. He gurgled in delight.

"Thank you," she said, finally getting an opportunity to slip out of her coat. Una hung it on the coat rack and swept the carrier and Bridget's hold-all bag filled with baby gear off to the side as Bridget headed on into the sitting room.

She saw with great relief a clear, Geoffrey-less path to the sofa, and with even greater relief that her father Colin sat on the other cushion. He rose when he saw his daughter, gave her a big, warm hug. "Bridget. Wonderful to see you, love."

"Hullo, Dad." They sat down together. He reached for the end table and took a tumbler of dark liquid in his hand, probably scotch; the holidays were the only time he allowed himself to have any of the stuff anymore. "How are you?"

"Better now that you're here," he said warmly. "So have they started in on the Daniel thing yet?"

Bridget laughed despite herself. "Of course."

He patted his daughter's knee with his free hand. "You did the right thing, you know. A child recognises and appreciates love for him more than having two parents who are together for no other reason than for him."

Her heart filled to brimming with love for her father, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dad."

She felt him press a light kiss into her hair. "I'm proud of you," he said quietly.

She felt tears in her eyes, and she closed them to squeeze them out.

………

It was the nearby sound of a baby—of _her_ baby—that caused her to open her eyes again, and that's when she realised she had fallen asleep on the sofa next to her father. She blinked sleepily from her position resting on his shoulder, and looked down, seeing the tail of Avery's favourite blanket on the lap next to hers. She furrowed her brows, suddenly certain that her father had not been wearing dark trousers. Who the bloody hell—?

She turned her head to the side and to her utter surprise found herself beside Mark Darcy, who was holding a very contented Avery in his arms.

"I believe this little one belongs to you," Mark said tenderly, glancing up to her, then back to the baby.

She sat up, pushing her hair up out of her eyes out of habit, the old flutter in her stomach returning at seeing him, which she cursed inwardly at herself for. He was immaculately groomed as usual, hair clipped short around the nape, sideburns precise, and cotton jumper blessedly free of diamond patterns or bizarre holiday themes. He looked fantastic, smelled like everything warm and comfortable she remembered about being near him. Avery smiled brightly up at Mark, kicking his legs in his excitement.

"I thought you weren't—" she began, then stopped, not anxious to seem like she only came because she thought he wouldn't be here. She began speaking again. "Did you bring—" She cut herself off again. Stupid. She didn't really want to know if he had his new girlfriend here. "It's nice to see you again," she said at last with a smile. Reaching for her son, she added, "I'll take him back if you want."

"He's fine." He stretched his fingers out and rubbed Avery's tummy, and the baby started laughing uproariously. "It's nice to see you too." He looked up again, an almost tentative smile on his face. "You're looking very well."

She thought back to what her mother said upon her entry into the house, and she made a sound of disbelief.

"No, truly. Motherhood suits you." His eyes, his face, were pure sincerity.

Her smile was lopsided. "Thanks. Though I am tired all the time," she admitted.

"Yes," he concurred. "Your falling asleep on my shoulder kind of hinted towards that."

She couldn't help but chuckle, even in her embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. I was enjoying—" He stopped, shifting Avery a little. "Enjoying holding your son very much."

She reached for the baby, who grabbed her finger immediately. "He seems to like you."

He didn't reply, merely smiled, a broader, more relaxed smile than the last.

She looked to the end table beside her and found that someone (probably Una) had thoughtfully placed a cup of coffee beside her. She picked it up; it had gone cold. She debated getting up and warming it in the microwave but shrugged and just began to drink it. It wouldn't be the first time since Avery's birth she'd drunk tepid coffee that had started out hot.

Mark was apparently enraptured with the baby still, about as much as the baby was enraptured with Mark. "He has a very mild temperament," he said.

"Yes, I'm very lucky."

Suddenly, Mark looked to her. His question, though gentle in tone, completely caught her off guard: "Did you come alone today?"

"Um… you mean beside Avery? Yes."

"Ah." He looked back to the baby.

Despite her previous thoughts, curiosity got the better of her. "I had heard you wouldn't be making it today," she said.

"Well, I hadn't intended on coming, but my plans changed last minute." He looked to her again, and his voice went very quiet. "I'd really like to talk to you, if that's all right."

"You are talking to me," she said, making a concerted effort to sound light even as her stomach did an acrobatic flip. She became acutely aware at that moment of the soft buzz of family and friends happily milling and chatting around them.

He almost looked a little wounded. "You know what I mean, Bridget."

Of course she did. He wanted to talk to her privately. Her heart pounded, her mind went off into wild speculation with regards to what he might be wanting to speak with her about, all alone. Maybe this new girlfriend had just become a new fiancée and he wanted her to be the first to know. That level of consideration would have been very like him.

"Yes, Mark," she said at last.

Mark's brows furrowed as if he were concentrating very hard on something. "Now might be a very good time to slip away."

"Now? Why?"

He then smiled. "I think Avery needs a new nappy."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry." She reached for her baby and when she got him in his arms, she was struck with an unmistakably nasty smell. "Didn't, uh, get on you, did it?"

He chuckled. "No, I'm stench-free."

Mark rose from the sofa and helped Bridget to her feet. She pointed out her baby bag as they passed through the foyer, which he picked up. He guided her to a back bedroom and closed the door behind them.

"Could you…?" she began, holding Avery out to Mark again. "While I get the pad out."

"Oh, sure." He took the baby back and rather than holding the child as if he were radioactive, he held Avery quite normally. This both surprised and amused her, as she was certain Mark Darcy had never dealt with a dirty nappy in all of his life.

As she laid out the changing pad, Mark said, "Avery was quite the centre of attention when I first arrived."

She took Avery and laid him down on the pad, stripping him of his little trousers and opening the dirty diaper without giving the contents much thought, the only real way to deal with one. "Was he?" And then it occurred to her: her mother. Her mother must have passed him around from person to person, which explained why Bridget had not been besieged with "oooh"s and "aaahhh"s and "why didn't you marry the father?"s when Mark had him on the sofa beside her. She was grateful to her mother (and to Mark) for that deflected attention. She then felt slightly mortified. "How long was I sleeping?"

"Well, I'd gotten here about an hour ago and you were sleeping on your dad's shoulder. I offered to take his place so he could stretch his numbing legs."

She stopped in the middle of wiping down Avery's little bottom to look up at Mark, and she realised he was studying her every move. "Oh. That was very kind of you."

"Think nothing of it. I was sure you needed the sleep."

She put the new nappy into place, sprinkled him with powder and sealed it up. As she drew Avery's trousers back on, she asked in her best neutral tone, screwing up her courage, pulling herself up to her full height, "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

He shoved his hands into his pockets, looked down. "I'm sure you've heard through the Grafton Underwood grapevine, quite ably facilitated by your mother and Una Alconbury, that I've been seeing someone."

_Oh God_ , she thought. _Here it comes._

"I'm so sorry," she began. "Your girlfriend must be really angry with me for keeping you away from her—"

"Bridget," he interrupted firmly. "I'm not."

"What?"

"Not seeing someone. Well, I was. We had a couple of dates, but didn't really work out. She was nice. Pretty. Interesting. But she had one major flaw I couldn't overlook." He walked over to Avery, who still laid on the pad on the bed. In her distracted state she had failed to notice he had begun to fuss. Mark picked him up, lifted him over his shoulder and patted his back. The baby settled immediately. The image, she had to admit, was a lovely one.

She blinked, shaking her head, shaking herself back to reality, thinking with some amusement of a certain literary character who was once accused of only looking at a woman to see a blemish. "I'm almost afraid to ask what this horrible flaw is."

He looked to her, fixing her with intense eyes. "She wasn't you."

Once again her mind was set to racing. She was glad Mark was holding the baby, because she found herself sitting on the bed without remembering actually consciously doing so. "Oh."

………

It was December. The air was chillier than it had been in months. Mark's budding romance with a woman he'd met at a social gathering of legal professionals was over before it had even begun, and now the most exciting thing on his calendar was a lunch engagement with people he'd first met when he was with Bridget, who he'd last seen in the company of these same people when Bridget was hugely pregnant.

He was met at the door by Magda, who looked unexpectedly exuberant as she pulled him into the house.

"What's going on?" he asked. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn Magda was herself pregnant again.

"Oh, Mark, I know we had a little bit of a… _disappointment_ in April—" _Understatement of the year_ , he thought, knowing she was referring to that last meeting with Bridget, during which (despite Magda's planning) he had failed to get her alone to talk to her. "But I've just had some very interesting news that I'm certain you'll be piqued by."

"What's that?"

"Daniel proposed to Bridget."

Mark was sure his face noticeably fell, that his skin gone had perfectly ashen.

Magda, sadist that she was, smirked and paused before she added:

"Bridget said _no_."

Mark drew his brows together.

"And she's moved out."

Mark blinked.

"You're putting me on," he said at last, his voice low and distressed.

"I would never do such a thing. Now, they've stayed friends, apparently, and he's been really good about helping with Avery. The baby." She added the explanation at his undoubtedly confused look. He felt a surge of adrenaline through his gut; he knew she'd had the baby in June, but he hadn't talked to her or seen her since a couple of months beforehand, that aforementioned April, didn't even know the child's name until that moment. " _But_. She told me she said no because she realised she doesn't love him like that."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Yes, she did."

"Ah."

She laughed lightly, and Mark realised it had been many minutes since he had spoken. "I thought your reaction might be something close to that." She crossed her arms before smirking devilishly. "And you'd be interested to know too that her reaction upon hearing of your new girlfriend was not the reaction of a woman who no longer had feelings for you, Mark."

He looked to her, stunned, then narrowed his eyes. "Don't joke about this. That would be beyond cruel."

"Mark. I promise I'm not. I would never think to interfere in such a way if I wasn't absolutely, positively sure."

Mark blinked rapidly, thoughts in turmoil as she grabbed his arm protectively and chuckled.

"Come on," she said. "Lunch awaits."

………

"Magda told you all of that?"

Mark had come to sit beside her. Avery had lulled off to sleep in his arms.

"Yes," he said quietly.

She made a mental note to herself to not confide quite so thoroughly in Magda in future even as she felt the full impact of what he was saying: despite the time apart, despite the number of times they'd hurt each other, despite her having given birth to another man's child (and not just any other man's, but _Daniel's_ of all men)… Mark still loved her.

Her first thought was not of herself, of her own feelings that Magda had so accurately zeroed in on, but of Avery, and of the havoc this would wreak with the boy's father.

"Mark," she said gently, meeting his eyes with her own. "It's not as simple as just you and me anymore."

If he took it as a blow, it barely registered on his features. "I am fully cognizant of that," he said calmly, absently stroking Avery's downy hair. "In my line of work, though, I am used to making preparations in advance."

"What?" she asked at this apparent tangent.

"I've been in contact with Daniel."

Suddenly the shared look between Shazzer and Daniel the night before, the one that had so puzzled her, made sense. She realised that there had been some kind of colossal conspiracy among her friends, her baby's father, and her ex-boyfriend in order to arrive at this moment, to get Mark alone with her so he might—do what exactly?

"Did you really split with this other woman _before_ you'd heard about my refusing the proposal?" she asked suddenly.

"Yes."

So she hardly had to worry about a jealous woman showing up on his doorstep _a la_ Rebecca's territorial display at Jude's wedding. "And what did Daniel say? What did _you_ say to _him_?" she asked, fighting off an image of them with their hands on each others' throats, simultaneously squeezing the life out of one another. 

Something about her tone must have made her thoughts as transparent as glass, and Mark made a hushed sound of amusement. "We were very civil. I only wanted to verify what Magda said was true. That you had turned him down, that your romantic relationship was well and truly over. He confirmed both. I also asked him if he had a problem with my attempting to win you back."

"Did he?" she blurted, as the reality hit her again: _he wants me back_.

"Bridget, I would not be doing this now if he did."

"Seriously?"

Mark only chuckled again.

"Of course seriously," she said, more to herself than to him; if there was one thing Mark Darcy was, he was a man of his word. "Why didn't he say anything to me?"

"I asked him to let me bring it up with you."

She merely nodded, entwining her fingers together nervously, studying her knuckles intently.

"So I am," he added.

She nodded again.

There was quiet for many moments; there was only the sound of soft inhalation and exhalation of the sleeping baby, of the quiet tick-tock of a clock on the bureau, of muffled party sounds beyond the door.

"Bridget, a man gets a little paranoid with so much silence," he said, his tone obviously straining to be light; she remembered ruefully when he'd proposed what felt like decades ago, when she'd taken so long to answer that he assumed she wasn't going to accept, an offer she was all too aware he had never renewed.

She realised she was on the verge of doing the same thing all over again.

"Sorry, Mark; this is just a bit of a surprise to me," she said, looking to him again.

"I understand," he said tenderly. "If you need more time to think about giving us another go, you can say so."

"And what if I were to say no?"

"No?"

She continued to look intently at him, pushing her hair out of her eyes, then leaned back on her hands. "As in, not interested."

His only noticeable reaction was to blink three times in quick succession before he said, "I would respect your wishes. I would still at least want your friendship, though."

She nodded, then added in a somber tone, "Avery does really seem to like you." Bridget couldn't see her own hand, but knew it was trembling as she reached up to brush it across Mark's cotton-covered back, then hooked her fingers around his waist as she laid her cheek on his upper arm. "Thankfully you'll be more to him than just my friend." His head snapped to the side to look at her, jerking back so quickly the baby startled awake and began to cry. However, he simply stared in disbelief, eyes round as saucers.

"Bridget," was the most he could say. _Don't joke about this_ were the words she knew were hovering on the tip of his tongue.

"Mark," she said quietly and as calmly as she could manage, "if you're going to be a regular feature in our lives, you should probably learn how to stop him from crying." It was hard to keep a straight face, but somehow she managed it.

He apparently no longer heard the crying any longer due to his attention being focused one-hundred-percent on divining Bridget's meaning from her words, and then after he did, he was one-hundred-percent focused on kissing her. Initially he was a little tentative, as if he were kissing her for the first time ever, or it could have been that he was amazed that he'd gotten the chance to do so once more in his lifetime. When he kissed her again it was more like the familiar tender hunger she had known, one she had missed, one she had forgotten existed amidst so many repeated attempts (and frustrating failures) to have a baby of their own. Kissing him in return was as natural as breathing.

She ran the pads of her fingers over his hand as it cradled the sniffling baby, who had settled considerably and was already well on his way back to sleep. He enfolded his free arm around her, pulling her as close to him as Avery was.

" _Godfathers_ , Bridget, can't you get him to stop cry—"

Like two teenagers caught snogging on the sofa of their parents' house, they broke apart, she jumping back at least half a metre away from him, flooding crimson with colour. Her mother had flung the door wide and as she focused on the tableau on the bed, she gasped and went purple herself.

"Oh. _Oh_. I'm so sorry." The last time they'd been caught locked in a decidedly more passionate kiss by her mother, she had looked indignant and had later expressed annoyance because there had been a time, in her opinion, when a kiss meant something. Now, while she'd looked embarrassed, she also looked something akin to pleased as she retreated from the room, closing the door again.

In a situation such as this, there really was no other response but to laugh, and laugh they both did until she crawled up close to Mark and kissed him again, then scooped tiny Avery out of his arms.

"I don't know about you," she said as she got to her feet, "but I've had quite enough of this party." She held Avery snugly in the crook of one elbow as she reached out a hand towards Mark. "What do you say about taking us home?"

He stood, took her hand, and smiled.

………

It had taken some doing to get Avery to actually sleep that night. It was as if he knew something was different, new and exciting, as evidenced by his mum sitting in the back seat with him as Mark drove her car back to London, and he didn't want to miss a second of it. When Bridget came back into her bedroom she felt the exhaustion of the day in every bone of her body, but when she saw Mark sitting there on the edge of the bed, waiting for her, charmingly still fully dressed as if perhaps he hadn't believed she really wanted him there, she grinned.

"Asleep at last?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Come here." She came near to him and he reached to pull her to sit across his lap. Almost as soon as she did he was embracing her with no agenda but to simply to hold her close to him, stroke his hands across her back, sigh softly into her hair. She drew her arms over his shoulders and around his neck, rested her cheek against his collarbone and closed her eyes.

"Bridget?" came his voice some moments later.

"Yes, Mark?" she replied.

"You've been so busy taking care of the baby," he began gently. "When was the last time someone took care of you?"

She chuckled low in her throat, trying to think of the last time she and Daniel had actually had sex (if that's what he was referring to), and couldn't place it. "It's been a while."

He turned his head, placed a kiss into her hair. "Have you any bottles prepared in case Avery wakes up?"

"Yes."

"Good. And is the monitor on?"

She glanced over to the receiver of the baby monitor, saw the light shining bright, saw the green bars flickering as it picked up the quietest of sounds. "Yes."

"Right." He pulled away far enough to look into her eyes. "Tonight, I'll take care of him should he need it. But first…" He brought his hand up to cup her face. "…you."

He bent to kiss her. She felt an unexpected giggle erupt from her throat.

"What's so funny?" His expression was not difficult to read: disappointment.

"I'm so sorry, Mark. It isn't this, isn't you at all. I was just thinking I don't even know if I have any johnnies anymore. And whatever figure I used to have hasn't exactly made a reappearance, so…"

"Nonsense." He reached for the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up. She was horrified by the light-coloured stretch marks riddling the skin of her midsection, the extremely squashy nature of her stomach, and she felt herself flush. He splayed his hand and lovingly laid it on her stomach, then slipped it around her waist to her back. "You're as beautiful to me as you ever were."

When he bent to kiss her a second time, there was no giggle to get in his way. 

………

She awoke to sunlight in her eyes, to Mark sleeping peacefully beside her, and memories of the prior evening came back to her in a happy rush until she remembered that she did in fact have a baby and she hadn't been awakened once during the night; whatever Mark's intention, she knew she wouldn't have been able to sleep through the sounds of the monitor. She flung back the covers and sat upright, which awakened Mark abruptly.

"Bridget?" he asked, blinking his eyes and turning over, reaching for her. "What's the matter?"

"Avery!"

"He's fine. I went out and checked on him a short while ago. He's still sleeping."

"Still sleeping?" she echoed.

"Mmm. Yes." He grasped her arm and tugged her back down to him. "Slept all night, best as I can tell."

"He was actually _breathing_ the last time you went in there, wasn't he?"

He gave her a serious look. "Of course, darling." The corner of his mouth crooked upwards.

_Darling_. She felt the panic in her heart subside at once and she smiled as she curled back into his arms.

"This is a first."

"What's that?" he murmured, holding her close to him.

"His sleeping solidly through the night."

"You see what an excellent influence I am already?" he said quietly, jokingly.

It occurred to her that she was hearing footsteps out in the main part of the flat, that she had left the bedroom door open as she had done every night since bringing Avery home. She had absolutely no time to react when she realised the footsteps and an all-too familiar voice had gotten closer: "You lazy tart, are you still in be—? Oh."

She pushed herself out of Mark's embrace and turned back over just in time to see Daniel gazing in. She tugged the covers up to her shoulders.

"Sorry," said Daniel, grinning wickedly. "Didn't mean to… interrupt."

"You didn't," said Bridget, a little too defensively for her liking.

"Darce," Daniel said, acknowledging Mark.

"Cleaver," said Mark in reply. Mark had not been exaggerating: while not best mates by any stretch, they were actually being civil.

" _Daniel_ ," said Bridget, sure her skin was flaming red. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to pick up Avery for the day. As I didn't see a sock tied around the doorknob I thought it was safe to venture in," Daniel said, still smirking.

Bollocks. She'd forgotten all about this arrangement, Daniel taking Avery to visit his own mother. She then heard in stereo (via the doorway and the baby monitor) that Avery began to cry.

"Can you… go and tend to him, please?" she said.

"Certainly, Mummy." Daniel retreated. Mark called after him to close the door, and he did.

She sighed, covering her face with her hand. Her life had suddenly gotten exponentially weirder.

The bed behind her shifted as Mark sat up, and he wrapped an arm around her. In a surprisingly teasing tone, he said close to her ear, "We're going to have to do something about his unfettered access to your flat unless we want him to walk in on us on a regular basis."

She laughed, knowing innately that he did not intend to ask her to take Daniel's key from him. "I suppose we _could_ tie a sock around the doorknob." She turned to look at him over her shoulder, and he kissed her. She turned to embrace him, her love and especially her desire for him rekindled once more. 

Things might have progressed beyond a kiss but for a polite rapping at the door. "Sorry, but Avery's a bit on the hungry side, and I know you don't cherish the thought of expressing another bottle's worth for today, so…"

She broke away, chuckling. "Let me tend to his feeding." She called to Daniel to give her a minute.

Mark nodded, stroking her cheek tenderly, touching his nose to hers. "I'm not going anywhere," he said softly, then kissed her again.

_The end._


End file.
